It was an cow-packed weekend for us! (Well, not that our hooman friend here is a cow or anything. And I guess he'd be a bull, not a cow, unless he was one of those castrated bulls. What do you call a castrated bull again? Castrati? Nope, that's opera. Anyway, it's irrelevant because Brian isn't castrated. At least, as far as I know. He does have a deep, masculine voice. Quite a lovely voice, really.) Our most excellent friend Brian came to visit us from grey and dreary Toronto, and apart from being impressed by the spectacular spring in BC (if I do say so myself), he was most eager to experience the village cows up close and personal. So off we went, carrots and apples in hand (or more accurately, a plastic bag.) Here are my dear husband Gordon (love ya, honey!) and our good friend Brian, awaiting the
...COMING OF THE COWS!
Here, Brian bravely offers Mama cow a carrot. Such courage in the face of perceived imminent death! (Those bulging, crazed moo-cow eyes, those nasty sharp teeth...)
Natalie shows the Cow-feeding Virgin just how friendly these beasts really are. (Note the abject terror disguised by Brian's casual smile, and the way his hand is frozen in fear as he waits for it to be amputated by Mama cow's nasty, slicing fangs. I hope you're not right-handed, Bri!)
The calf decides that this time, Mama ain't getting all the treats! (By the way, Brian, cow saliva dissolves human skin on contact. Next time, wear protective suiting.)
Can some intrepid scientist measure the viscosity of cow spit for me? (That is, without the saliva dissolving said intrepid scientist, leaving behind a jiggling mess of guts and skeleton, and a pocket protector.)
Brian and Mama cow, speaking in tongues (those whacky Torontonians! Don't they know that this means "Yes, I'm a tasty apple!" in bovine-speak?)
Ah, I think we can safely say that Brian is no longer a Cow-feeding Virgin (I can't speak for any other kind of virginity), and with just a few tasty pieces of produce, he has managed to overcome his trepidation and be one with the bovines. In fact, I'm starting to think he's a little TOO "one with the bovines"!
(And a good time was had by all. Mama kept her fangs away from Brian's flesh, the cow saliva didn't dissolve my fleece vest [although it does need a good washing now], and we all lived to see another day. Brian has a new respect for the terrible, beautiful bovine.)